


The Tradition: Year 1

by elizaye



Series: FWB!verse [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Birthday, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaye/pseuds/elizaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their annual tradition starts on January 24th, 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tradition: Year 1

Dean gets back from lunch with Sam around two—Sam has a project that he’s gonna work on with some friends, so he’ll be busy the rest of the day.  Dad’s stuck in a meeting—typical—so Dean’s gonna be spending the rest of his birthday without his family.  Lame.

He considers calling up Victor and Jo to go hang out, but he already told them that he’d be with his family tonight, and that they’d get together tomorrow.

Resigning himself to a boring night in the dorm, he trudges upstairs and thinks about what he wants for dinner.  When he opens the door to his room, Cas is sitting at his desk, typing away on his laptop.

“Hey,” Dean says.

Cas looks over, surprised.  “You’re back early.  I thought you said—”

“Yeah, they canceled.  Too busy.  How’s your paper coming along?”

“Well.  I should be finished within half an hour,” Cas reports as Dean crosses the room and flops face-first onto his mattress.  “I’m… sorry,” Cas adds.

“‘m fine,” Dean grunts.  “It’s not a big deal or anything.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Cas resumes typing.  Dean lets the soft clicking of Cas’s keyboard lull him toward sleep—now’s as good a time as any to catch up on some rest.

But just as sleep’s beginning to edge in on Dean’s mind, the typing stops, and Cas speaks.  “If you’d like, we could go out for a birthday dinner, to make up for the one that you’re missing.”

Dean rolls over and stares up at the ceiling.  “Don’t you have work tonight?  It’s Monday.”

“I can call in sick.  It’s not as though books that don’t get shelved in time will spoil or burst into flame.”

Dean chuckles, scratches an itch on his stomach.  “You sure, Cas?”

“Yes.  Joshua appreciates my work ethic.  Apparently his previous assistant slept more than he shelved.  I won’t get fired over this, Dean, don’t worry.”

“All right, if you’re sure,” Dean says.

“I am.”

The typing starts again, and Dean closes his eyes.  “Y’know, we should go see a movie.  You haven’t seen enough good movies.”

The typing doesn’t stop, but Cas responds readily, “I’m not opposed to the idea.  What would you like to watch?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Dean says, trying to think of what’s in theaters.  “Hey, you a fan of Leo?”

Cas stops typing, and Dean lifts his head to look just in time to see Cas tilting his head slightly in that curious-bird way that he does.  Dean can’t help but smile at the sight.  “I don’t know who you’re referring to,” Cas finally admits.

“Leonardo DiCaprio.  Y’know, _Titanic_?”  Cas is frowning now, and Dean shakes his head.  “Oh, c’mon.  Everyone’s seen _Titanic_.  Iceberg, sinking ship, you jump I jump?”  At this, Cas’s lips twitch, his eyes glinting mischievously, and Dean knows he’s been had.  “Oh, you son of a bitch,” he grumbles, and Cas is full-on smirking now.

“Of all the quotes you could’ve chosen.  How romantic of you, Dean.”

“Shut up.”

Cas laughs, and Dean hears him start to type again.  “I don’t dislike Leonardo DiCaprio.  I haven’t seen many of his movies.  Though his performance as Romeo in _Romeo and Juliet_ was mildly horrifying.”

“Fuck, _any_ version of _Romeo and Juliet_ is horrifying,” Dean counters.

“You have a point,” Cas answers.  A moment later, he asks, “Did you want to watch one of his films?”

“Oh.  Yeah, have you seen _The Aviator_ yet?  Came out two or three weeks ago.”

“No.”

“We should go see that.  It was great—watched it with Sammy over break.”

“Forgive me for being a little wary of your definition of ‘great.’”

Dean rolls his eyes.  “ _Star Wars_ is a classic, okay?  You’re like, the only freak on the planet who doesn’t like those movies.”

“That’s highly unlikely,” Cas says.  “If pressed to choose a movie centered on extraterrestrials, I’d much rather watch _Alien_.”

“Right, because that’s _so_ much more realistic.”

“I’m not interested in the realism of the film, though it was framed in a very believable way.  What I appreciate are the themes that it explores.”

“Themes.  Oh, god.”

“The film is supposed to make us uncomfortable—us especially, as we’re males—because it not only deals with the topic of rape and the resultant nonconsensual childbirth, but goes one step further by forcing these horrors on a male victim rather than a female one.”

“Cas, stop.  My brain’s not made for analyzing this type of shit.”

“I’m just saying that the relative lack of depth in the _Star Wars_ series makes it less enjoyable to watch.”

Dean groans.  “You do realize we’ll be going out to have fun tonight, right?”

After a brief pause, Cas says, “I will make an effort not to overanalyze tonight’s film, then.  Consider it a birthday present.”

Dean laughs.  “Yeah all right, Cas.  Thanks.”

* * *

Dean settles down with a bucket of popcorn and props his feet up on the seat in front of him—the nice thing about seeing a movie after it’s been out for a few weeks is that the theater is so empty.  Dean sees a few people sitting in pairs, and a group of four girls sitting closer to the front.

“Hey Cas, when’s your birthday?” Dean asks.

“December twenty-fourth.”

“Christmas Eve?”

“Yes.  And no, I did not receive twice the presents.”

Dean chuckles.  “Sounds like you got asked that a lot.”

“Understatement.”

“So it was last month.  Why didn’t you say anything?  We could’ve gone out and done something fun.”

Cas shrugs.  “I’m not accustomed to celebrating my birthday,” he answers.

Dean frowns—he doesn’t want to push for information, but he really is curious about Cas’s family.  They’ve been living together for three—or four?—months now, but Cas hasn’t really said anything about his family except to mention that there’s conflict between them.  Then again, Dean really shouldn’t be talking.  It’s not as though he’s been all sharing and open during their time together.

What Dean has picked up is basically that Cas’s family doesn’t sound so great.  He knows that Cas is here on an academic scholarship, and that most of the money he makes at the library and as a tutor goes to paying for room and board, because his parents don’t provide much money for him.  Dean doesn’t know if that’s because they’re incapable, or because they don’t want to, and he’s never thought it would be appropriate to ask.

He also knows that Cas stayed in the dorm over winter break.  Dean had asked if he’d wanted to come over for Christmas dinner at least, but Cas had declined.

“Did you want to say something?” Cas asks, breaking into Dean’s thoughts.

“Oh.  No, no.  Just thinking.”

“I do not come from a traditional family.”  And yeah, that’s another thing about Cas.  He’s always right on the money when it comes to the direction of Dean’s thoughts.

“Yeah, I know.  You’ve said so before,” Dean says.  “It’s just… I mean, I’m not from the most white-bread normal family either, but… I don’t know.  We still had birthday cake and ate turkey for Thanksgiving and stuff.  And you… no offense, but your family sounds so extreme and cultish.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, Dean winces, wishes he could take it back—not all of that was supposed to come out.  Especially the ‘cultish’ thing.

But after a moment of silence, Cas startles him by chuckling.

“What?” Dean asks.

Cas turns toward him, and Dean sees that there’s nothing angry or offended in his expression, which is a relief.  “It’s fine, Dean.  You aren’t the first person to say that about my family, and you aren’t even that far from the truth.  I…” he breaks off, shakes his head.  “I’d say more, but it’s your birthday.  We can save the soul-baring conversation for a day when we’re not supposed to be having fun.”

“Hey, no, I actually wanna hear this,” Dean admits.

Cas fixes interested eyes on him, and Dean feels like those fucking blue eyes are looking _into_ him.  Which, _what_.

“I’m just curious,” he adds.  “If you don’t wanna—”

“I was raised by my uncle and my eldest brother,” Cas says.

Dean falls silent, wondering why the hell they’re talking about this in a _theater_ , for Christ’s sake.  But the ads are still looping on in the background, and they’ve got at least another ten minutes before the previews start.

“I can’t remember my parents.  My father left before I was born, and my mother died before I was old enough to remember her,” Cas says.  Dean opens his mouth to say something.  He’s not sure what he can say—it’s not as though an apology from him is going to change anything.  But Cas holds up a hand, stopping him.  “Don’t bother.  It’s not a sore spot for me.”

“How can it not be?” Dean asks.  “They’re your parents.”

“I spent a long time being angry and bitter toward them.  I’m done with that.”

“So your uh, your mom’s gone.  But your dad, don’t you at least wanna meet him?  Find out what he’s like?”

Cas shakes his head decisively.  “No.  He abandoned us—I have no interest in meeting him.”

Dean lets the topic go—Cas claims that it’s not a sore spot for him, but there’s still a note of anger in his tone, and Dean gets that he should back off.  “So I’m guessing your uncle is the one who’s all…” he trails off and ends up making a weird spinny hand gesture because he’s not sure what word to use.

“Yeah,” Cas answers.  “He raised us to excel at what we did and to avoid distractions.  We were rewarded for our accomplishments and punished for our failures.  The principles weren’t bad, but the extent to which he carried out punishments and applied rewards was… extreme.  And manipulative.”

“Could you… give me an example?” Dean asks.  When Cas hesitates, he says, “You don’t have to.  I’m just curious, is all.”

“Yes, I’d rather not think too much about that.  Perhaps another time,” Cas says.

“So uh, you said your mom died before you could really remember her, but… don’t you have a little brother?”  Cas looks at him, surprise evident on his face, and Dean adds, “Hey, don’t look so surprised!  I pay attention when you talk.”

This gets a smile from Cas, and he explains, “Inias, yes.  He’s my younger brother.  He was adopted by my uncle, though I have no idea why he chose to do so.  He constantly complained about the burdens of raising such a large group of boys, so it doesn’t make sense that he would adopt another.”

“Large group, hmm?  How many siblings have you got?”

“Seven.  There were eight of us, including me.”

Dean whistles.  “That _is_ a pretty big family.  Let me guess—your uncle played favorites.”

“Yes, but his favorites tended to shift with our performance.  As I said, he was very manipulative,” Cas says.  He shakes his head and then sends a smile in Dean’s direction.  “I am grateful to be far away from him, and from the others.”

“So your relationship with your siblings isn’t so great either, I take it.”

“No.  Zachariah was decidedly homophobic, and he tried to raise us to think along the same lines that he did.”

Shit, Dean thinks, that’s really gotta suck.  He’s never been persecuted for liking the people he likes, so he can’t relate personally to Cas’s experience, but he can’t really imagine not being accepted by Sam or Dad.  They love him enough that even if he were gay and decided to come out to them, he’s sure they would be fine with it, maybe after a little adjustment on Dad’s part.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, and he means it, even though he knows it won’t really change anything.

“No, don’t be.  It’s your birthday—I shouldn’t be bringing you down like this,” Cas says.

“Hey.  I asked you to tell me about it, okay?” Dean says.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“I understand that normal people don’t celebrate their birthdays by listening to their friends’ sob stories about their horrible families,” Cas says, brow furrowed, and Dean smiles.

“I don’t care about what’s normal, okay?  Different is fine.”

Cas opens his mouth to respond, but then the previews are starting, and Cas settles back in his seat.  Dean turns toward him, about to say that he can keep talking if he wants to, but Cas shakes his head and jerks his head toward the big screen.

So Dean turns his eyes to the trailer that’s just started, but he’s thinking about what Cas told him, thinking about the shitty family Cas came from.  He thinks about how Cas doesn’t know his parents and wonders how that must feel, to know that your father left you even before you were born, for reasons unknown—Dean’s dad may be gone a lot, but he’s still always come through when Sam or Dean _really_ needed him.

Dean doesn’t even want to _imagine_ what it’d be like if Sam scorned him for something that was a part of him, and he finds himself really angry at these strangers, angry on Cas’s behalf because Cas is a great guy, and if these douchebags pushed Cas out of their lives, they don’t deserve to have him.

But aside from a few quirks, Cas seems to have turned out fine, and Dean feels weirdly proud of him for that.

* * *

Hours later, as Dean’s falling asleep that night, he thinks he hears Cas mutter his name—“Dean?”

“Mm,” Dean clears his throat but doesn’t bother to open his eyes.  “Yeah?”

“I… you were right.  I actually do wish I could meet my father,” Cas admits softly.

Dean does open his eyes at this, lifts himself up onto his elbows and twists so that he can see Cas across the room, but Cas is lying on his side, facing away from Dean.  “Hey, uh.  Do you wanna talk about it?” he offers.

“No.  I… I think I just really needed someone to hear that.”

And Dean feels strangely honored that Cas chose him.  Of course, he’s got no clue how he’s supposed to express that, and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to say, now.  But Cas saves him by speaking up again.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“I uh, I didn’t even do anything,” Dean says sheepishly, lowering his torso back to the mattress and staring up at the ceiling.

“You’re here,” Cas says, and somehow, that’s enough.  “Good night, Dean.”

Dean clears his throat again, shuts his eyes.  “Yeah.  ‘Night, Cas.”


End file.
